


It's Like A Heat Wave

by melancholymango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Breeding, Childhood Friends, Consensual Sex, Double-Dicked Dragons, Dragon Keith (Voltron), Dragon Lance (Voltron), Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Monsterfucking, Mutual Pining, Omega Lance (Voltron), Reunion Sex, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: “But I want a mate.”“Well, you haven’t exactly done a whole lot of looking!” Rachel snarls, reaching forward and shoving him bodily into the sand. He fumbles uselessly, not nearly as graceful and tactile in this form. It’s worse when she leans over him, eyes wide and frenzied as she glares down at him, trembling with poorly-concealed hurt and anger. “Lower your expectations, you idiot! If you want a mate, you have to be willing to find one, to let one find you. After all, they aren’t gonna swoop down from the sky and sweep you off your feet like your firewing boyfriend did.”“Leave Keith out of this!”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 1177





	It's Like A Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nanfoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanfoodle/gifts).



> Welcome back, my dragonfucker audience. I know you're out there, I STILL see you commenting on my old dragon fics every now and then. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you, I just have a lot of monsters to fuck and so little time.
> 
> This fic is a gift to Nanfoodle, from me, but also from her dear friend @MarleyD1015 who asked me to write it for her. Thank you both so much for thinking of me for the task and I hope it makes your wildest dragonfucking a/b/o dreams come true.
> 
> If you're picky about your a/b/o biology and wanna know what you're dealing with going into this, I'm going to leave a guide in the end notes about how things work in this particular universe. IF you don't care, just read on.

There are a few days throughout Lance’s life that stand out as something particularly extraordinary, days he looks back to with fondness no matter how much older he grows, days that he’d happily revisit.

At five years old, the day he’d breathed his first flame, barely old enough to swim on his own without clinging to his mother’s wings. It’s blurry, a distant memory, but he doesn’t think he’d ever be able to fully forget the way it felt that first time. Every time after that had come so naturally, but as a child it’d been so confusing, trying to understand how to summon his flame. And when it finally did come, it almost seemed to have a mind of its own, and it wasn’t due to any of the many techniques Lance had tried to force it out. It’d felt like a sneeze coming on, and then next thing he knew he was freezing the water around him with his breath as he swam.

At fourteen years old, the day his entire clan had moved territory, heading down the coastline of the continent to much warmer southern waters, where the seasons were never met with snow and ice. They could spend entire days basking in the sun, in all of its intensity. The water was a shining turquoise blue that nearly matched Lance’s scales perfectly and it never failed to fascinate him, even now, how he could sneak up on prey without ever being noticed despite his size.

At eighteen years old, the dreaded day he’d experienced his first heat, shacked up in an underwater cavern far from home because it’d hit too suddenly to make it back. He’d spent his heat in fevered agony, snarling and snapping at anyone or anything that tried to get close to him, despite the fact his entire body felt alive with the need to be touched and taken care of. The unfamiliar location triggered something ugly and feral in him, something naturally distrusting. And well, it was an accurate example of what all his future heats would be too, in hindsight. But that’s a thought for another time.

All of those days stand out at something pivotal in his life, something that shaped him to the man he is today, nearing twenty five years old and grown enough to dwarf even some of the elder dragons from his clan. They’re also all dates that _make sense_ , dates that would stand out for any dragon. And yet not one of them is his _fondest_ memory. That’s saved for something much, much more exciting than any of those generic milestones.

The day he met the firewings.

… The day he met _Keith_.

\--

There’s a school of fish plucking away at the algae covering the rocks up ahead and Lance stalks toward them with his eyes completely focused on the goal. His tail whips quietly through the water, propelling him forward while his fins guide him. He doesn’t bother with using his legs to swim, not while he’s hunting, they’re too clumsy and awkward and would only draw attention to him.

He’s nearly upon them, teeth showing in a feral grin as he approaches, ready to snap and devour an entire mouthful of the shiny little carps. They’re well within biting range and he prepares to snap at them, but there’s something unsettling tugging at the corners of his mind that breaks through even the haze of feeding. Something isn’t right. He’s not safe.

He twirls around, startling the fish in the process, and looks for other dragons or sharks. Anything that could potentially pose a threat to him. His tail is whipping back and forth threateningly, his muzzle pulled back to reveal his teeth, just the hint of cool air blowing through his nostrils as his flame sits at the ready. 

Only, there’s nothing there.

He’s alone, and still the unsettling feeling persists, crawling and uneasy under his skin. He feels compelled to shrink away, get out of the open, find a nice cave or crawlspace and hide out there until the danger passes. His mind spins. His heart races. And, eventually, realization sets in.

Lance swallows hard, unhappy with the realization he’s reached.

Though the seasons here all seem to blur together, each one as sweltering and sunny as the last, there’s an instinctual level of understanding that doesn’t fade no matter where on the world’s surface you take yourself. Especially not as a dragon. Lance’s body knows it’s spring before he does. 

It’s been a while since he’s been above the water, a long while, and he’d almost lost track of how close he was getting. It’s clear now that he’d left it go too long. He should’ve been more prepared for this. By this point, nearly seven years into maturity, Lance should know the signs like the back of his hand. Only, it’s never quite predictable with him, his hormones out of whack and erratic as they are.

Because, like it has each and every year since the first, Lance’s heat is fast approaching.

And, like it has each and every year since the first, it’s going to be worse than his last.

He knows this. He’s had the knowledge seared into his mind in the most unpleasant of ways, through six heats spent alone, six heats spent writhing in pain and misery. He also knows the solution. Yet rather than going in search of the one thing that can help him, Lance steels his nerves against it and prepares for the worst. He ignores the faint tingling sensation to his skin, the first of many telltale signs, and he goes about finding a place to hunker down for the next week… or two… or three.

_Fuck._

Lance swims as fast as his fins can carry him, flared out like wings behind himself, pushing him through the water with a great deal of strength. He doesn’t care who he alerts to his presence now, there are very few predators that could catch up to him. Aside from other dragons, but he’s still in the territory of his own clan, he should be fine on that front.

He makes it to the outskirts of their territory before he has the unfortunate experience of running into anyone else. It’s made even more unfortunate when the _someone else_ swims through the water at break-neck speeds, spinning and twirling clumsily, muzzle curled back to show rows of gleaming teeth.

“I swear, Rachel, if you try it I’ll gut you. I’m not in the m-” Lance doesn’t get the chance to finish before she barrels into him at full speed, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him further down toward the ocean floor. 

He roars, the furthest thing from a playfully angry noise, but she still doesn’t back off. She relentlessly paws and nips at him, even as he thrashes against her. She is, infuriatingly, immovable as she pins him to the soft sand at the bottom of the ocean and places a huge clawed paw on the back of his head. He huffs, pouting as she buries his face into the sand. For a younger sister, she’s infuriatingly stronger.

“And where do you think you’re going, brother of mine?” Rachel coos at him through their telepathic connection, nosing along the back of his neck, threatening to nip at him again. In his current state, already keyed up and beginning to prepare for his oncoming heat, it sets Lance’s skin alight with anger. He snarls, whips around, and manages to dislodge her and pin her to the dirt in one smooth move. 

In the face of a rare show of Lance’s full strength, Rachel flattens back against the sand in submission, eyes wide. Lance simply stares at her, tries to reel his control back in. He’s still thinking clearly, completely, but his instincts and hormones are making him naturally defensive. Especially with anyone who dares to put their hands on him so casually, even if that someone is a pesky younger sister.

“Go home, Rachel.” Lance says eventually, jumping off of her and swimming toward the surface. She doesn’t listen, but he hadn’t expected her to. At least she doesn’t tackle him again, even as they both emerge with their heads above water. She does, however, keep staring at him for answers. He hates it.

“Well, what gives? Don’t tell me you’re deserting your clan and running away from home? You told mama you were just going hunting. You know you’re not allowed to leave our territory.”

“It’s spring.” Lance informs her, matter-of-factly. She stares back at him, unblinking and unimpressed, like he’s just told her the color of the sky is blue. When she realizes he has nothing else to add, she shoves him and swims for the beach. He follows, given he’d been headed in that direction anyway.

“Oh, I’m quite aware that it’s spring. I’ve probably got a clutch of five on the way, my mate and I were so busy a couple weeks ago. Are you excited to be an uncle again?” She calls back to him even as she charges ahead, leaving him to swim at a more moderate unbothered pace behind her. He is, truthfully, excited to be an uncle again. He never tires of it. He loves all of his nieces and nephews from his older siblings, and he thinks that Rachel is well within her right to be excited for her first clutch too. 

It’s just… tinged with the bittersweet sting of jealousy. Given that they’re twins, it’s hard not to be competitive with her, to want to be the best and the first at everything. Seeing her happily mated and welcoming young into her life sparks something nasty inside of him in the same way it fills his heart with joy. She’s been trying since her second heat to impregnate her omega, this is a big moment for her after all. But Lance’s body is beside itself with grief that he isn’t celebrating the same, an innate desire for children of his own growing stronger the closer he gets to his heat. Not that he doesn’t want them desperately on a normal day, it’s just far harder to push to the back of his mind like this.

He doesn’t have time for this right now.

“I can’t believe you’re going to curse this world with your spawn.” Lance groans, trudging up the shore and out of the water, until he’s far enough to fall into the warm sand and bask there. He sighs contently then, eyes immediately closing. His stomach has started to cramp, not quite painful yet as much as uncomfortable, and it’s only bound to get worse. The sand heating him from the outside seems to take some of the ache out of it.

A moment later, Rachel settles beside him. 

When her tail reaches over and flicks at his feet, he begrudgingly mirrors the playful gesture.

He can tell that she truly is excited about her clutch, about sharing the information with him.

A long moment passes and to an extent, Lance enjoys her silent company. A part of him, like any omega, craves closeness and support during the tumultuous time before his heat. He just normally doesn’t allow himself to indulge in it like this. It inevitably leads into discussions like the one they’d just had, or it leads to people standing by and worrying while he goes through the agony of spending the actual heat alone.

The last thing he wants is to cause his family any worry. Even if the worry _may_ be justified.

An hour or so later, after spending plenty of time drying off in the sun, the itch under Lance’s skin grows too intense to ignore. The cramps are starting to hurt now. He starts to fidget, feeling restless, the urge to nest an insistent pull in the back of his mind. All the while, Rachel sneaks glances in his direction, curiosity obviously piqued. It’s clear she’s trying hard to keep quiet, but it’s just not in the McClain nature.

“Her heat seemed to hit harder this year, did yours?”

It’s a harmless question. 

It _should_ be a harmless question, anyway. 

But they both know that it isn’t. It’s a loaded question and it always has been with Lance. Because while most dragons are happily mated on their second heat, third if they’re a late bloomer, it’s rare for a dragon to wait until their fourth. Rarer still for a dragon to wait until their fifth. Near unheard of to wait until their sixth. But their seventh heat? No one waits until their fucking seventh heat. No one. 

They mate for life and the urge to pair off presents itself early, when their secondary genders develop at around twelve. And Lance is no exception to that rule, contrary to popular belief. He does want a mate, of course he wants a mate, he’s wanted a mate his entire life. He’d always dreamed of being happily mated with countless clutches of young to care for. He’d just… always made it out to be something so much easier in his head. 

He’d always imagined that he’d meet someone and know without a doubt that they were the one.

That hasn’t been the case. Despite the fact that before his second and third heats Lance was a very desirable omega in his clan, had countless courting offers… he’d rejected them all. None felt right. No one caught his attention and held it. He felt remarkably indifferent toward them all. He couldn’t base the rest of his existence on indifference, could he? It was supposed to be something profound, a bond unlike any other, like finding your other half, or the very least someone that compliments your whole.

Eventually, as the years and the heats passed Lance by unpartnered, the dragons lining up to court him disappeared. Now, he’s lucky if anyone spares him a second glance, even when he’s smelling sickly sweet of desire during his pre-heat. It’s easier to leave than see them stare at him with confusion, indifference, outright disgust. He doesn’t understand it either. His body wants it, his mind wants it, but his heart is never in it and he can bring himself to ignore that. He just can’t.

So he spends his pre-heat and his heat entirely alone, far enough away from any other dragons that no one will disturb him or even attempt to court him. It’s just, well, the amount of time he’s had to stay away from the clan has been growing longer and longer with each passing heat. To the point that a part of him, though he buries it deep, is almost scared that the horror stories are true. What if the next heat does kill him? What if it goes on so long he won’t be able to feed, bathe, and care for himself until he withers away? What if it simply never ends? 

“Haven’t had mine yet.” Lance replies, after much hesitation. his jaw clenched tight the entire while.

“ _What_ ? Lance, everyone in the clan has already had theirs. Did you just fail to notice when the entire omega population went missing? Are you fucking _dense_? Haven’t you worried that something might be wrong with you, that it’s not normal to be so much later than every other dragon in the sea?!”

“I haven’t been spending much time around the others. Spring makes me irritable.”

“Probably because you’re purposely unwiring all your instincts to be a stubborn bastard.” Rachel picks herself up, her dragon form massive and hulking next to his. But she doesn’t seem to want to intimidate him into listening to her, not today at least. She transforms in front of him, until smooth scales are replaced by soft skin, and her long snout is replaced by a round frowning face. “Seriously? You’re not joking? You really haven’t had it yet?”

“I haven’t.”

“You should see the medic.”

“I’m not going to the fucking medic, Rachel.” Lance growls out, transforming himself so she can understand him better. The sand feels far worse against naked skin, gritty and itchy, and he immediately misses the effortless slide of his scales through it. He glares at her. “It’s coming now. It’s not like I don’t have a heat, it just comes _later_. I’m getting older, maybe it’s more normal than you think and omegas just don’t discuss the effect of time on their bodies.”

“I don’t think that’s the case, Lance.” 

“I don’t think I care to know what you think, an alpha like you shouldn’t try to speak over an omega about their own body. It’s terribly obnoxious.” It’s easier to read her expressions like this, not that Lance hadn’t been able to sense her emotions through their bond. It’s worse to see it on her face so plainly though, harder to ignore. She looks furious with him, but also unmistakably hurt by his words.

“I don’t give a shit if you think I’m being obnoxious, Lance. I am trying to help you. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy, you must know that by now. _Please_ tell me you plan on spending this heat with someone, at least? Literally anyone. Fuck a shark for all I care.”

Lance’s nose wrinkles in distaste.

“You know where I stand, Rachel. I’ve stood by it too long to go back on my word now.”

“And you have the audacity to say alphas are stubborn and boneheaded. Look at you, willfully killing yourself because you have too much pride to let someone fuck a clutch into you, no strings attached.”

“I’m not a fucking incubator!” 

“Of course you’re not, but you’re going to die waiting on some perfect mate that doesn’t exist!”

“Rachel.” Lance breathes, his expression softening as he watches tears well up in her eyes. He tips his head back and stares skyward, wishes the sun would simply swallow him whole so he didn’t have to have this conversation again. He hates knowing that he’s hurting the people he cares about, almost enough that he’d consider what she’s suggesting just to make her stop crying. But gods, it’s not what he wants, he doesn’t want a clutch with some random alpha. 

“And assuming they do exist, this perfect mate of yours, I hardly think they’re going to judge you for having a clutch before you’re mated. Not anymore at least, times have changed since our mother’s generation, and longer still since our grandparents. It’s normal, widely accepted. There’s nothing wrong with wanting children and not a mate, Lance.”

“But I want a _mate_.” Lance insists quietly, ducking his head because he can’t look her in the eyes as he says it. He doesn’t regret it, but he knows it’ll hurt her, seeing how unwilling he is to budge even now.

“Well, you haven’t exactly done a whole lot of looking!” Rachel snarls, reaching forward and shoving him bodily into the sand. He fumbles uselessly, not nearly as graceful and tactile in this form. It’s worse when she leans over him, eyes wide and frenzied as she glares down at him, trembling with poorly-concealed hurt and anger. “Lower your expectations, you idiot! If you want a mate, you have to be willing to find one, to let one find you. After all, they aren’t gonna swoop down from the sky and sweep you off your feet like your firewing boyfriend did.”

“Fuck off. Leave Keith out of this!” Lance drives his knee up into her stomach and she grunts, curling in on herself and then falling back into the sand. Lance scrambles away, kicking up sand as he goes, spitting and clicking his tongue in warning. She picks herself up after a moment, wipes the sand from her face, glaring at him all the while.

“You know, he’s probably already mated to a plucky little firewing omega.” She speaks low and scathing, and though she’s still in her human form and her claws aren’t out, it feels like she’s digging them into Lance’s skin with every word she speaks. “They probably have _ten_ clutches by now. I hear firewings fuck like rabbits, that’s why there’s so many of them compared to us water dragons… is that why you have your heart set on him? It doesn’t matter anyway, because there’s no way he’s waiting on you, Lance. He probably doesn’t even remember your _name_.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rachel.” Lance yells, but his voice breaks midway through and his demand becomes a plea in an instant. He looks at her with wide, desperate eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this. Please don’t make me. I don’t want-”

“Lance.” Rachel draws a deep breath, her gaze pitying as she rakes it over him. “I know you cared about him. A lot. But you were a _child_ , you weren’t even presented as an omega yet, and you’re from entirely different clans. I doubt he even _considered_ you in that way. And even if he did, you missed your chance. He hasn’t spent seven years of ruts alone, Lance. Only a madman would torture themselves like that, hopelessly in love or not. He’s… he’s mated. And you’ll probably never see him again. And the sooner you admit that to yourself and move on, the sooner you can find your happiness elsewhere.”

“Maybe I don’t want it elsewhere.”

“Maybe you don’t know that for certain, because you’ve spent your whole life looking in the wrong direction.” Rachel counters, softly. “I’m worried about you, bro.”

“Rachel, please spare me the lecture.”

“It’s not a lecture, it’s an intervention!” Rachel huffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Please, Lance. It’s not normal for you to be this much later than all the others. There’s something wrong. And even if it doesn’t kill you, what if it messes with your ability to have young at all? What if your body decides that if you aren’t going to sate your heats, you won’t get them? You still want to be a father, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Lance breathes. “I just don’t want to have them with any random alpha.”

“Well, maybe if you’d been less indecisive, it wouldn’t _have_ to be random.” 

“And say I take your advice, I try to have a clutch with an alpha I don’t intend to claim as my mate. What if they lose control in the heat of the moment and try to bite me? You think as it sits, my hormones are stable enough I’d even be able to fight them off and reject them?” Lance’s voice trembles as he explains, opens up about anxiety he’s kept long-hidden. Because the truth is, he doesn’t have options at all. No matter how closely Rachel knows these alphas she’s trying to set him up with, she can’t know wholly and truly that they’d be able to control themselves around an omega in heat. And while that wouldn’t be a problem normally, an omega in heat far stronger than even an alpha, able to fight off any unwanted pursuers… as it sits, Lance isn’t sure that any pursuer would be unwanted. At least on a biological level.

His body wants to have a mate, wants to have a clutch of his own. “It’s too risky. I can’t control myself and I would never trust a random alpha to control themselves. I don’t want to end up tied to someone for the rest of my life against my will, Rachel. You have to understand that.”

“I understand.”

“Thank-you.”

“But,” She inhales sharply, crosses the sand to reach out and grab his hand. She gives his fingers a clumsy squeeze, blue eyes intense as they bore into his. “If you absolutely must do this alone, then let me come with you. I’ll guard your den. I’ll make sure no alpha comes anywhere near you. That way, I’ll be there to help if something goes wrong and you-”

“Rachel.” Lance chuckles wetly, fondness leaching into his words no matter what he does to chase them out. He knows how much she cares and this is just a testament to that, but he can’t possibly take her up on the offer. Just the thought disgusts him and embarrasses him in ways unprecedented. “Let me ask you something. Would you want me around for one of your ruts? Dire circumstances or not?”

“... Damn it.” She curses. “Of course not.”

“You can’t come with me to my heat den, Rachel, as much as I know it’s coming from a place of worry and love. I need to do this alone. The thought of being supervised by a family member during my heat is… unsettling, to say the least. I’m not going to put you or myself through that.” Lance talks to her with a level voice, patting the back of her hand placatingly. Slowly, her shoulders slump and she hangs her head in defeat, a soft sigh slipping past her lips.

“You make a good point.”

“I’ll come back.” Lance promises, grabbing her chin and tilting it up so they can look each other in the eye properly. She’s still frowning, but the longer he stares the more she starts to chuckle, smile slipping through. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be back to hunting with you before you know it.”

“You’d better be.” She sniffles, knocking their shoulders together. They stare out across the water for a long moment and Lance can’t help but admire the crashing waves. His heart feels heavy having to walk away from it, especially when it’s for an unknown amount of time. It almost pains him to be away from the water for any length of the time, it’s so much a part of him.

“I’m gonna miss the water like hell, though.” 

“You’re going ashore?”

“It’s easier in this form.” Lance tells her, biting his lip. He doesn’t want to overshare, so he doesn’t go into anymore detail than that, hopes that she doesn’t think too hard on it. To put it simply, opposable thumbs and clawless fingers are a useful tool to have in his hour of need. She snorts beside him and he glares at her, even goes so far as to kick some sand in her direction as he gets to his feet. “I should probably head out to find a place to hunker down now. Can you tell mama what’s up? Preferably when I’m well out of her reach in case she comes after me for not telling her about the late heat situation?”

“I will.” Rachel turns, watching as he heads for the treeline, his long tail swishing behind him even in this form. There are some features that never change, things that keep him remarkably unique from the humans. His wings are there, though useless in this form. His tail, his horns, and the small smatterings of scales in random patches around his body stay as well. It’s not entirely alien, just not as easy and natural as his other form.

He’s just about disappeared into the trees when she invades his mind again, clearly having transformed back into her dragon self. Her thoughts enter his mind out of the blue, startling him more than simply shouting aloud after him would have. He nearly trips over a root.

“Stay safe.” She thinks to him, plainly. “Your nieces and nephews need you in their lives, you jerk.”

“I’ll try.” He whispers under his breath, aware that she can’t hear him but hoping she gets the sentiment all the same through their bond. He certainly gets her sentiment, feels all the anxiety and concern swelling in her chest, far more than she’d ever let anyone know aloud. She’s always been that way with emotions, stuffing them down deep and pretending to be above them. Lance never used to be, but when it comes to this, he simply can’t share it with anyone. It’s too personal. Too raw.

As Lance walks into the woods in the direction of the cave he always nests in, his thoughts drift.

It’s hard not to think about Keith on an average day, harder still on the days near his heat, and impossible during his heat. Keith is always on his mind, thoughts of what they once shared, thoughts of what could have been, of what could still be, of where in the world the other dragon might be. Lance misses him terribly. Still. All he has now are the memories.

\--

From the very first moment Lance laid eyes on them, he idolized the firewings.

They were massive, for starters. The biggest creatures he’d ever seen in his life, despite the whales he’d swam alongside throughout his life. The firewings were double, sometimes triple, the size of the elders in his clan. Their wings were massive wide things, broad enough to pick up the air beneath them with each flap, sending gusts of wind below so strong that they disturb the surface of the water from thirty feet above in the sky. And gods, how they would _fly_ , they’d glide through the clouds as graceful and effortless as Lance’s clan moved through the water.

It was entirely chance that their clan happened upon Lance’s at all. Lance’s clan happened to be strewn about the shore basking when the shadows of the firewings passed overhead, and from there they’d swooped down to ask for directions, then for shelter from the approaching storm in the following days. And Lance’s clan was hardly a territorial one, especially when most of their hoards were stashed well below the water and out of reach from the strangers. They saw no reason to send the firewings away, and so they were recognized as esteemed guests to their clan. Everyone from Lance’s clan was to treat them as their own, friendly and welcoming, neighborly despite their differences.

Lance had absolutely _no problem_ with that verdict.

The entire first day they were there, Lance watched the firewings from his comfortable vantage point in the water. He was entirely fascinated by them as they bustled around the shore and set up camp, but his mama had taught him to always be cautious. From the moment they’d arrived, she made a point to pull him aside and tell him to be wary. They were outsiders. While it was perfectly fine to be welcoming and kind to them, it could be a mistake to trust them.

Lance understood that well enough, but unfortunately the knowledge did nothing to sate his curiosity.

On the second day, Lance ventured out of the water and up the shore in his dragon form. He stayed low to the ground, slithering through the sand like a snake, eyes on the flickering light of fire in the middle of their camp. They’d gathered a massive pile of sticks and then breathed their flame onto it, and ever since the red flames had danced there with no sign of fading away. Lance had never seen fire like that before.

He crept closer, crouched behind a rock, peered curiously around it.

Most of the firewings were settled around the flame, in their full dragon forms. Some were dozing, others eating, and then the younger ones were rolling around and playfighting on the outskirts of the camp. Half of the clan stayed in their full dragon forms, while others had transformed onto their two-foot forms and draped themselves in fabric to cover their softer flesh. Strange. 

Lance watched them with intrigue, listening to the telepathic conversations they were having now that he was close enough to overhear them. For the most part, it was boring stuff, about charting courses for their next destination.

There was one firewing, however, that stood apart from the rest of the clan.

He wasn’t nearly as big as most of the adult dragons, but he was easily double Lance’s size. A juvenile, by the looks of it, near to Lance’s age though the size difference made it harder to believe. While all the other young ones were playing or huddled together, this one was off on his own curled up near a smaller, weaker fire he’d made himself. 

It was for this reason, that Lance deemed him less intimidating than the others.

“Hey!” Lance had charged right up to him, bouncing eagerly around the spot he was resting. Deep royal purple eyes had cracked open, suspicion glinting plainly in the slitted irises. Lance lowered his chest to the ground, posing as if to pounce, but reeled himself in before trying it. This firewing was much bigger than him after all, and he wasn’t about to risk being pinned by it. “I’m Lance.”

“Do you... need something?” The firewing has answered, albeit reluctantly. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to play.” Lance rolled over, kicking his legs in the air, tail thrashing through the sand and sending a wave of it crashing over the other dragon’s scale. The firewing hissed, shifting away from him, shoulders hunched up around his neck. Lance rolled back onto his stomach, lowering his head in apology. The firewing ignored him, turning toward one of the much larger dragons up the beach a ways, eyes wide and imploring.

Lance remembers vividly the way he’d screeched when the massive firewing walked over to them, wings flapping threateningly behind his head. Lance had flattened himself to the ground completely, the picture of submission, and prayed that he hadn’t made a mistake in approaching them after all. 

When it reached their sides, the adult dragon bumped its nose against Keith, exhaling a plume of smoke that left the younger dragon coughing in bitter annoyance. 

“Shiro.” The younger dragon growled, rearing back to pounce at the larger. In an instant, a heavy paw settled on its head, pinning it back to the sand despite the way it snarled and clawed at the older dragon. Lance watched on in utter confusion. In his clan, it was unheard of to talk back to your elders, much less attempt to maul one with tooth and claw. 

“Go ahead, Keith. I know you’re curious.” Shiro then batted Keith in Lance’s direction, and in an instant he had a squirming ball of firewing hitting him in the side and knocking him off balance. They rolled in the sand for a long moment, and by the time they righted themselves, Shiro had already returned to the other elders by the fire.

Lance stared at Keith for a long moment, feeling hopeful. Keith stared back, looking considerably less happy with the turn of events. But when Lance turned to leave, to stalk back to the water with his tail tucked between his legs… Keith followed.

“You’re huge.” Lance jumped ahead of Keith, bouncing with excitement. The moment they were out of eyesight from the other dragons, Lance spun around to pounce at Keith. The full bulk of his weight did nothing to stagger Keith, who wordlessly shoved him off and continued walking ahead. Lance followed behind, eyeing him curiously for a weak spot. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” Keith answered, looking over his shoulder. “You?”

“Twelve.” Lance held his head higher, pride surging through him. “Almost thirteen, actually.”

“Huh.” Keith turned on him suddenly then, pouncing with so much force that they went rolling again, and this time they crashed into a nearby tree and nearly uprooted it. Keith had him pinned in an instant, with barely any effort. He loomed over Lance, rows of huge teeth on display, and for the first time Lance felt a shred of apprehension. But… the longer the moment stretched, the more Lance realized that Keith was actually smiling. “Do you breathe fire? What’s the point of breathing fire underwater?”

“No, we breathe ice.” Lance clarified, excitement growing as Keith finally started to ask him questions back, revealing that he was just as curious after all.

“You breathe a solid block of ice? Doesn’t that _hurt_?”

“No, it’s more like… normal breath, but icy? Like an incredibly cold icy wind? Like fire, but instead of hot, it’s cold. So cold that it burns, you know?” Lance tried and failed to explain, but Keith looked amused nonetheless as his toothy grin stretched even further. Lance scoffed, squirming out from beneath him, and Keith let him go. “Look, why don’t we just show each other rather than try to describe it?”

In hindsight, it was far from Lance’s smartest idea.

But at the time, there was nothing he wanted more than to get up close and personal with a firewing’s flame, to see it and feel it in action. So they’d breathed their respective flames directly at each other, leaving Lance’s entire arm smarting with a burn that ached to somewhere deep below his scales, and Keith with a paw frozen entirely solid for ten minutes afterward.

“Fuck. Ow. I’m getting feeling back, but it _hurts_ now.” Keith had yowled, rolling around the forest floor in agony, tearing at tree trunks with his claws as he went. Lance glared at him with a sense of vindictive pride from where he was licking at his own burn, wincing each time his rough-textured tongue would drag over it. He was sure his scales were going to fall off and the salt water would sting like a bitch when he returned home later. He whined, burying his face into the grass.

Eventually, after recovering from their last set of questions, Keith ventured close and began to sniff at Lance’s wound. Curiously, his tongue had darted across it as well, and Lance had near bit him when the heat brought another surge of pain back through him. But Keith had recoiled too fast to even be bitten, spitting and scowling, clearly disgusted. “How come you’re so slimy? You feel like a fish!”

“I’m not slimy!” Lance was deeply offended by this at the time. “How come you’re so rough and prickly then? You look painful to touch. Your scales are sharp.”

“Not if you rub them the right way!” Keith snapped back, his wings flapping behind him defensively, and Lance couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he looked. Like a peacock, or a songbird, ruffling their feathers and showing off. Keith only seemed to grow more agitated when Lance laughed at him. “Do you even _have_ wings? Or just… _fins_ ? Are you even a dragon or just a really big _fish_?”

“Oh yeah, well, at least I know _how_ to swim.”

“Can you _fly_?” Keith countered, stalking around Lance, getting ready to pounce again. Lance took off running before he could, still laughing as he ducked under tree branches and then ran across soft sand, Keith close at his heels chasing him. 

“You can teach me!” Lance laughed, wiggling beneath him. Keith scoffed, rolling off of him and landing in the sand at his side. Lance was left on his back, staring up at the stars. He wondered if Keith could fly as high as the stars, if he’d ever touched one. Lance desperately wished he could fly.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of knowing a technique.” Keith had said, gently, like he was breaking terrible news to him. But Lance wasn’t ready to give up, he would find a way to fly one way or another.

“I’ll teach you how to swim if you teach me how to fly. What do you say?”

“Fine.” Keith still seemed reluctant on the surface but Lance could see right through him. If he truly wanted Lance to leave him alone, he’d be a lot more firm about it. The truth was, he wanted to know Lance just as much as Lance wanted to know him. He wasn’t nearly as tough as he wanted to be seen as.

So, Lance didn’t hesitate to use his full weight to pounce the moment Keith was least expecting it.

They both rolled into the water with a splash.

Here, Lance had the advantage. Keith kicked and thrashed uselessly, while Lance swam circles around him and kept him from climbing back onto the beach. He was careful to make sure Keith’s head stayed above water, though they were still in the shallows and Keith could easily touch the ground if he only had the common sense to try. He was too busy panicking to do much of anything else.

“First lesson started! You’ll be swimming in no time with me as a teacher!”

Days passed. Keith made minimal progress on learning to swim, Lance learnt nothing at all when it came to flying. At the time, it’d frustrated him, and he’d blamed himself for not trying hard enough. Now that he’s older, he recognizes that he’s simply not built for it. Still, despite knowing this, Keith tried his very best to be an earnest teacher. He was patient, encouraging, and never once called Lance out for being so naive as to believe he’d ever be able to fly with wings as short and thin as his.

Most days were spent practicing flying and swimming respectively. From the crack of dawn, Lance would swim away from his clan, heading straight for the beach to meet with Keith. Then he wouldn’t return to his family until the moon was high above the water, reflecting off its surface.

“My mama says we shouldn’t hang around each other. That firewings are hotheaded and prone to angry outbursts and fits of rage.” Lance told Keith one day, as he trotted happily out of the water first thing in the morning. It was always easy to find Keith, he was a creature of habit, and he’d found a bunch of rocks near the water’s edge that he liked to bask on. That day wasn’t particularly sunny, but Keith was still there on the rocks all the same.

Lance reached his side and stared down at him, head quirked to the side. Keith didn’t even bother to lift his head, just peered up at him. “You don’t seem angry. You snarl a lot, but you haven’t bitten me once.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m _nice_. Just means I’m not an idiot keen on getting your entire clan after me.”

“I think you _like_ me.” Lance countered, completely confident. “I think we’re friends.”

“Do you?” 

“Yeah, I do.” Lance didn’t back down. Keith snorted, before stretching his wings out further across the rocks, flapping them lightly to rid himself of any sand lingering in his scales. Lance was mindful not to step on either massive wing, instead crouching down to tuck his snout beneath one, slowly burrowing further until he’d settled wholly engulfed by Keith’s wing... like a blanket. He sighed happily, head dropping against the rock and eyes falling shut. He didn’t much feel like swimming or flying today.

Keith didn’t shift away, but he did growl under his breath.

“You’re _wet_.”

“You’re warm.” Lance growled right back, snapping his teeth in the general direction of Keith’s neck when he attempted to pull his wing back. After that, Keith settled again, deciding it wasn’t worth the fight after all. Lance relished in his win, curling into Keith’s side, preparing for a nap despite just waking up moments before. “Like basking in the sun, but even on cloudy days.”

“Hm.”

After that day, napping curled together in the sun became part of their regular routine as well.

It was also around that time that Lance started to look at Keith in a new light, started to wonder if it was possible to take on a mate from another clan. Keith would make a good mate, he figured. Sure, he wasn’t the best at talking, and he was grumbly and prickly early in the morning, and he snapped at Lance for being too loud and excitable. But he also shared all of his hunts with Lance, and spent hours teaching him to fly despite the fact he wasn’t making any progress, and he was warm like basking in the sun, after all. What more could a dragon want in a mate? Lance really wasn’t sure.

He still isn’t, if he’s being honest.

The last day that Lance saw Keith, he’d had no idea it would be the last. It was a day like any other. A morning spent trying and failing to fly, an afternoon spent swimming and splashing in the water together, and then an evening hunting for food they could eat together. Keith was a good hunter, but Lance was a far better fisher, and they alternated which they went for depending on the day.

“Have you even caught a single fish? You suck at this.” Lance held his head high as he submerged from the water, carrying a mouthful of fish. He dropped them onto the rock next to Keith, who was aimlessly pouncing and swiping at the water. He wasn’t filling to dive under the surface yet, so he didn’t have the clearest view of where his prey actually was. Anything he ended up catching was usually just pure chance rather than skill.

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t splashing around with them, I’d have better luck.” Keith told him, but then he contradicted himself by wordlessly helping himself to one of Lance’s fish and eating it raw, not even bothering to cook it with his flame like usual. So clearly, he wasn’t in a place to be passing judgment, not when he was reaping the benefits of Lance’s prowess. 

Besides, Lance loved being better than Keith at something. Not even from a place of competitiveness, though Keith seemed to think it was. In truth, Lance just liked knowing he could provide for Keith too, that he had something valuable to offer him back for all he did. It made things feel more equal between them, made him feel like Keith didn’t just see him as a kid because he was a couple years younger.

He’d meant to catch more fish after that. So many that he’d just be showing off, really.

Only, something had gone wrong when he dove back into the water. He couldn’t even really explain it, only that it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. He couldn’t even swim properly, as pain started to creep through his body, making him struggle to balance and fight against the current. 

He emerged from the water again after ten grueling minutes of fighting his way to the surface.

Three steps up the beach, his legs gave out, and he collapsed into the sand with a whimper.

“ _Lance_?” 

“K-Keith.” Lance called, trying and failing to hold his eyes open to see if Keith was actually coming to his rescue. He only got his answer once Keith was kneeling next to him, shoving his snouth into the curve of Lance’s neck, scenting him to try and get an idea of what was going on. “Something’s wrong. I don’t feel good. I think that last fish must have been poisonous. I might _die_.”

Keith pulled away after a moment, eyes wide with recognition that was hardly relieving. By this point, Lance's entire body felt alight with pain. It was all he could do to keep from writhing against the ground, to stop himself when temptation hit to clumsily crawl toward Keith's retreating body heat for comfort. 

“We should get you home. Back to your clan.” Keith sounded uncharacteristically anxious, enough that it broke through his usual act of complete indifference.

“Is it that bad? I mean, I know it feels bad, but your reaction is really only solidifying my fears.” Lance tried his best to keep his growing panic out of his voice, but there was really no hiding it. He also couldn't help himself from gasping as the next wave of pain shit through his abdomen. He curled in on himself, shivering slightly against the onslaught of ache coursing through him.

Meanwhile, Keith watched on with sympathy written all across his features. He leaned in again, carefully nuzzling Lance's shoulder. “Keith it hurts.” 

“I know. Do you think you can swim back if I carry you to the water?” Keith lowered himself down, as if to offer his back to Lance. And while it was a nice gesture, Lance couldn't imagine peeling himself off the ground and climbing that far.

“I think I’m dying, Keith. I’ll die before I ever get home. My mama is gonna think you murdered me! She’ll never let us hang-out together again!”

“Lance. How would we hang-out anyway if you were dead?” Keith scoffed like he couldn't believe how ridiculous Lance was being, and if Lance had the energy to lift his head then he surely would have stuck his tongue out. As it was, he just grumbled, hiding his face under the edge of Keith's wing. Keith let him, though he gave another quiet scoff. “You’re not dying, Lance. You’re presenting.”

Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. Lance was twelve after all, almost thirteen, as far as dragons went he was veering into late-bloomer territory. If course he'd known it was coming, but that hadn't been enough to truly prepare him for the reality. 

“Oh?” Lance tried to lift himself and immediately collapsed back into the sand. He closed his eyes, panting to catch his breath. Presenting wasn't nearly the same thing as a heat. It was painful and miserable, though it lasted a couple days rather than the average heat length of a week. He could handle this for a couple days. All the other dragons Did, so of course he could. Besides, Keith being there made it easier, somehow despite the panic radiating off of him in waves. “I don't think I can swim on my own right now.”

“How long until someone comes looking for you?”

“If I'm not back by just after sundown, when all the younglings are put to bed. Someone will come. My mama, most likely.”

“I'll wait with you until then.”

“My mama might assume the worst when she sees me all huddled over in pain with you curled up next to me. Might think your firewing nature got the better of you and you fatally wounded me in a burst of rage.”

“You're not funny.”

“Can you pretend I am? To make me feel better?”

“No. It might go to your head.” So said Keith, but then he'd dropped into the sand next to Lance and curled up all around him, dwarfing him with his massive warm body, a blatant protective stance from any onlookers that happened upon them. And hell if that wasn't gonna go to Lance's head. He could definitely get used to that, to having Keith all wrapped around him.

“Hey, Keith? What do I smell like?” Lance had asked not long after that, unable to keep himself from wondering. He'd always looked forward to presenting, to courting a mate of his own someday and starting a family within his clan. But it'd always seemed like a faraway dream, when suddenly it felt so remarkably close.

He'd never imagined a specific face when he dreamed of a future mate, but not Keith's haunted him no matter how he tried to keep himself under control. How would he ever find a better mate than this? Surely there wasn't one.

“You don’t smell like anything yet. Just a mixture of gross hormones and destress.” Keith had grumbled, sniffing loudly as if to emphasize us point of how disgusting Lance smelled. Lance was hardly perturbed though, he couldn't get his mind off this train of thought even if he wanted to. And he really, really wanted to keep thinking about it now that he'd started it.

“What are you?” Lance knew he didn't have to clarify anymore than that for Keith to understand what he was asking. He just hoped that Keith would open up to him enough to answer, with what a terribly private dragon he was. He really needed to know.

“Alpha.” Keith had answered after a beat of silence, like he'd needed time to debate whether he wanted to answer or not. Lance hummed thoughtfully.

He'd always imagined himself as an alpha, too. This certainly threw a wrench in his plans. 

“Huh.” And to this day, Lance remembers the way he'd been forced to rethink a lifetime of conditioning in that very moment. He wasn't sure exactly why he'd always wanted to be an alpha, only that the other younglings his age had always acted like it was the most desirable secondary gender. “Will we fight if I’m an alpha too?”

“Probably not.” Keith huffed, nipping at him as if to say he should be resting instead of asking all these senseless questions. Still, he kept answering them, so Lance was going to keep asking. “You’re not controlled by your baser instincts, no matter what your secondary gender is. You still have rational thought, you still make decisions for yourself. You really don’t change at all, anyone that does is just acting it up on purpose.” 

“I don’t know, you’re pretty alpha-like.” Lance mused aloud, cuddling closer to Keith's warmth.

“You didn’t even know what I was until I told you.”

“Well, you’re taking care of me, aren’t you? Protecting me? And you always make a point to try and provide for me by hunting, even when we both know I'm way better at fishing.” 

“Shut-up. Go to sleep. This will pass faster if you do, trust me. I slept for like three days straight when I presented. It's easier that way.”

“And miss my chance to spend time with you? I don't think so. We only have so long before your clan has to leave. I wanna make every second count.”

“Lance.” It might have been an attempt at a protest, but somewhere along the way too much fondness had slipped into Keith's voice to take him seriously.

“You know, I don’t think it’d be such a bad thing to be an omega if this is what I have to look forward to. I don't know why I ever wanted to be a stinky alpha when this is the alternative.”

“You can't just… say that.” 

“Why not? It's true.” Lance had whispered back, summoning the last of his energy to lift his head and nuzzle into Keith's neck, where his scent glands would be. Lance didn't have any yet, at least not fully developed ones, but he would as soon as he's finished presenting. Still,he knew what it meant to exchange scents, knew it was a commitment of sorts, a promise. Not anywhere near a bonding bite, but something. He hoped it still counted where he wasn't presented yet. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their alpha.”

As far as Lance knew, Keith hadn't responded after that. Perhaps because Lance's words had been overwhelming, or maybe just because he didn't feel the same after all. The point was, Lance would never truly know for sure what Keith's reaction was.

Why? Because at that point he'd promptly passed out into unconsciousness, the pain growing to be unbearable. 

And when he awoke, days later, in the comfort of his own familiar bed at the bottom of the ocean? It was to the news that he'd presented as an omega. An omega that would be perfectly compatible with Keith's alpha self.

Only, when Lance expressed his joy over that fact, his mother's face had grown dark with sympathy, rather than bright with excitement. Even before she said a word, a part of Lance knew what was coming.

Keith's clan had _left_.

At some point over the four days Lance was unconscious, the firewings had packed up and flown off into the sky to continue on their merry way across the continent. No telling when or whether they'd be back. 

No telling if Lance would _ever_ see Keith again.

“He left this for you. He made a point to come back and give it to me just before you left. It was really important to him that you got it.” Lance’s mother said, her tone gentle like she could see Lance’s heart shattering in real time. She handed over a bundle of fabric, soaked from the water but still softer than most things in Lance’s bed. Lance recognized the rich red fabric immediately, as well as the heavy scent that clung to it, invading his nostrils and filling his mind.

Somehow, despite never being able to smell it before, he knew it was Keith’s scent.

\--

Compared to other omegas, Lance figures he has a strange relationship with the nesting process.

It’s not that he _doesn’t_ nest, of course he does, he can’t even imagine how unsettling it would be to spend a normal heat without that sense of security, let alone the monstrous heats he suffers through each year. It’s just that he doesn’t particularly enjoy nesting. It feels completely pointless to him when he knows he’s not going to get to show it off to anyone. There’s no use perfecting his skill, or touching up the small details, or making it as comfortable as it can be. Either way, he’s going to spend his heat alone and miserable, so it doesn’t much matter whether his nest is a pile of leaves on the floor of the cave or a carefully-constructed bed framed by birch branches. It doesn’t matter.

He’s stomping around through the forest gathering anything that looks remotely soft, holding as much as he can in his stumpy little arms while in this form. This part would probably be more practical as a full-sized dragon, he’s aware. It hurts to step on sticks and stones with feet made of soft skin rather than scales, he can’t cover near as much ground, and he’s not carrying much at all. But the cramps hurt less like this, and he’s going to take that little comfort whether it’s practical or not.

Back in his cave, he can already feel his pre-heat starting to wane into his actual heat. It’s not upon him yet, but it won’t be longer than an hour or two. Luckily, he’s about as prepared as he ever is, with a shoddy nest piled in the corner of the cave and a small ration of herbs and berries on the off chance he can stomach them at any point throughout the next unknown amount of time.

He could handle the pain and the torment, all of it, if he could only know for certain that there was an end to it in sight. Other dragons can be confident that their heats last a week, seven days and seven nights, nothing more or less. Lance has had heats as long as three weeks now, and they only seem to be getting longer the older he gets.

Lance sighs, climbing into his nest and curling up there.

Immediately, he’s aware of the fact that something is missing. He scrambles back out of the nest, pushing a nearby rock aside and shoving his hand deep into the cavern behind it. Only, he doesn’t feel his fingertips brush against soft fabric, but rather spiderwebs. Lance hisses, flinching away and then peering into the crack himself. His mouth feels suddenly dry.

“No. No! No, no, no… this can’t be happening.” Lance chokes around the words, feeling foreign actually speaking them aloud in this form. He brings his hands up, running them over his face. He feels the sting of saltwater gathering in his eyes, growls lightly in frustration with himself. Why would he be so stupid as to leave it here?! Here of all places! 

No one had ever found or disturbed it before. He figured it was safer here than to put it into his shared hoard with his family. It felt too important to share it with anyone else, the mere thought had a fierce protectiveness surging through him even now. But even that would have been preferable to losing it.

The one thing he had left of Keith.

Lance fell to the cave floor, kneeling against harsh rocks and trying to keep from falling apart.

Long moments pass, his heat creeping ever closer, and his eyes keep darting back to his empty unappealing nest in disbelief. It’s hard enough with Keith’s tunic to comfort him through it, he’s sure he’ll die if he tries to get through it without. He’s sure of it.

But what other option does he have? To go in search of it? It’s unlikely an animal found it and simply dragged it away, there’s no chance that he’d ever find it again. Still, he can’t… he can’t do this without it. He’s sure he won’t be able to. He needs it. No matter how impossible it is, he has to go and find it.

Lance picks himself up onto shaky legs, winces as he forces himself to concentrate enough to transform back into his full-sized form. It’s not desirable this close to heat, when his entire body aches, feels too big for his scales. But he’ll cover more ground like this, plus his sense of smell is stronger. Perhaps he can sniff it out. Maybe it hasn’t been gone that long, maybe he’ll find it yet.

He heads out into the forest, determination and stubbornness pushing him ahead.

It’s immediately clear that any trail that might have once been is long gone. There’s not a single trace of where it was or where it could be, Lance is left completely in the dark. All he can do is wander blindly through the forest, the smell of his pre-heat no doubt alerting other dragons to his other presence now that it’s out in the open rather than contained. It’s stupid. He knows he’s being careless and reckless, taking a risk he should never take. 

Just when he’s sure he’s going to have to double over on the forest floor and weather his heat right there in the open, his cramps slowly being replaced with a cloying feeling of warmth and a fuzzy layer of lightheadedness, his slick gathering between his legs... he catches a whiff of the scent.

It makes no sense. He’s sure it’s been gone for months now, no doubt snatched by a scavenger, a lone dragon. He tilts his head back, forcing his eyes open, forcing himself back onto his feet, unsure of when he’d fallen off of them. He scents the air, recoils slightly because it’s not quite what he remembers it being. It’s similar though, similar enough to drive him blindly in the direction of it. 

Lance stumbles out of the treeline into a clearing an undetermined amount of time later, his thoughts all blurring into one another, stuck on a single track of following the scent forward. It takes him a moment to really register what he’s looking at. The red flame, the red tunics, the massive dragons strewn about the small campsite in the woods. Lance gives a pathetic whimper.

Immediately, all eyes are on him, fifteen massive dragons rising to their feet to round on him.

Lance panics, backing himself up against a nearby tree and snarling defensively as the dragons grow closer. He can smell the unmated alpha rolling off of them in waves, already all posturing against each other in an attempt to stake a claim over him. And though, in the physical sense, he isn’t claimed… the thought of being anyone’s but Keith’s still sends a wave of disgust through him strong enough to combat the pleasant haziness of his heat. 

He stands his ground, even as they grow close, even as he’s reminded of just how much bigger and stronger the firewings are. Despite how much he’s grown since he’d last seen them, they still tower over him when they’re all in their full form.

“A bit far from the water, little guppie, aren’t you?” One of the dragons comments, circling closer and scenting the air, no doubt getting a good lungful of desperate omega. Lance knows how much his body wants this, wants an alpha to spend his heat with, and he can’t hide that in his scent. He’s still going to fight it with everything he has though. “Playing a dangerous game approaching strange alphas in the woods when you’re so… _compromised_. What gives? Your own kind not enough to satisfy you? Are you looking for a little something more?”

“I’m looking for _Keith_.” Lance snaps at the first snout to stretch out in his direction, manages to bite his teeth into it enough to break through a couple of those heavy scales that line the firewing’s body. The alpha recoils with a wince, growling something fierce. 

“ _Keith_?! What the hell could you want with him?!” The alpha stares at him, plainly disbelieving and expecting answers. Lance doesn’t offer them. 

Eventually, one of the other alphas speaks up, this one an older female. She doesn’t smell near as threatening and overwhelming, so Lance assumes she’s already mated. 

“He’s not here. Hasn’t traveled with the clan in years.” She lowers his head toward him, wings draping across the ground on either side of her. Apologetic. “I’m sorry. We can’t help you.”

“What happened to him?” Lance hopes desperately that he’s okay, wherever he is. He can’t even stomach the thought of Keith not being around anymore, the thought of him dying so young, before they ever got a chance to see each other again. It’s his worst nightmare come true.

“For fuck’s sake, reel in your grief for a second, your scent is so strong right now you’ll have the whole squadron crying with secondhand emotions and none of us even give a shit about Keith. He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. Fucking weirdo went off on his own years ago, said the clan life never really suited him, and no one’s seen the bastard since.”

“Well, except his brother.” The other alpha adds, helpfully. 

“Shiro?” Lance suggests, his head still spinning. “Is he here? Can I talk to him?”

Wordlessly, most of the alphas back off and go back to their perches from before. A couple linger about, like they think they might have a shot still if Lance changes his mind about wanting Keith. He can’t really blame them, not when the first wave of his heat is bound to crash any second now. He knows how he smells, knows it’s a unique torture for them to control themselves around him. But they all seem to have enough respect for Shiro not to try anything.

Or, as Lance wonders when he sees Shiro’s hulking form stalking toward him a few minutes later, perhaps they fear him. He seems even bigger than Lance remembers him being, and he’s definitely gathered a lot more scars since, his scales entirely missing in some places, and one of his horns broken off at the tip.

“What’s going on here?” Shiro huffs, sniffing the air around them and then stopping a good ten feet before reaching Lance. He plants his feet in the ground, stares Lance down like he’s somehow a threat to them. “Omega. Go home. We’re passing through, we don’t have time to wait around for any one of our alphas to attend you. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“ _Shiro_?”

“Do I know you?” Shiro tilts his head to the side curiously, bright yellow eyes narrowing like Lance is a puzzle he can’t quite piece together. 

“I’m looking for Keith.”

“Hm.” Shiro gets back to his feet, circling around Lance slowly, never once taking his eyes off of him. It isn’t predatory like the other alpha’s had been though, only appraising. Lance realizes belatedly that he’s being judged as a potential mate. Eventually, Shiro sighs, seemingly coming to his conclusion. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have the time. He’s a three day flight away and your wings aren’t much for flying, on foot it’ll take weeks. Your heat will hit and be done with by the time you reach him.”

“Is there any way you can get him for me and bring him back?” Lance asks, hopeful.

“You expect me to put everything I’m doing on hold to do a favour for you? I have a duty to the clan, I have to get these soldiers back. I can’t waste time making frivolous detours. Our mission is complete, now we’re headed home… which is in the _opposite direction_ of Keith.”

With that, Shiro turns on his heel and starts back through the camp of firewings, apparently deeming the conversation closed. Lance stares after him, heart caught in his throat, desperation clawing up in a way that makes it impossible to leave it be. This is the closest he’s ever been to finding Keith again, it might be the only chance he ever gets. He can’t let it slip through his claws.

He ignores the hungry gazes as he charges after Shiro, tackling him from behind when he’s least expecting it. By some miracle, he’s caught Shiro off-guard enough that he actually topples over, falling into the dirt. Lance clambers on top of him, tries his best to look threatening as he bears his teeth in Shiro’s face, snapping at him. 

Around them, every last alpha is on their feet and in a defensive position, ready to attack the moment Shiro calls it. Lance ignores the knowledge that he’d certainly lose that fight, instead holding his ground.

“It’s not frivolous! I plan to propose to him! I want him as my mate!” Lance shouts, slamming a foot down against Shiro’s chest. Beneath him, Shiro looks rendered speechless, the closest thing to a genuine reaction Lance has managed to pull from such a stoic man. Feeling the slightest bit bashful all of the sudden about his methods, Lance sheepishly lowers his head. “Please, Shiro. I beg of you.”

Wordlessly, Shiro shoves him off, and Lance lands in the dirt with a clumsy shake. By the time he rights himself, Shiro has turned his back on him again and is walking away. Panic rises in his chest, thinking he’s definitely messed this all up for good. But then Shiro’s voice speaks up in his mind, quiet and subdued.

“And where should I bring him to, assuming he wants to be retrieved?” Shiro says, not even bothering to turn back and face Lance directly. It’s the closest thing to a yes Lance figures he’s going to get though, so he runs with the punches. He can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“There’s a cave. Just east of here, in the mountainside. It’s fairly hidden, but once I’m in heat, it won’t be difficult to scent me out. He’ll find me easily enough.”

“And when I find him? What should I tell him?” 

“I… I don’t know.” Lance admits, as much as it kills him to. “I never thought I’d find him again. I haven’t thought about what I want to say. Hell, he probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“He hasn’t forgotten you, Lance.” The moment Shiro tells him this, Lance feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, a fear he’s held onto for a lifetime disappearing. “But you have to understand, he’s not fifteen anymore. He’s been living on his own without a clan for years, no outside contact. I scarcely visit him, once every season if I’m lucky and my post allows it. He’s not a boy anymore, and he’s never courted or been courted, he left the clan just after his first rut and hasn’t looked back since. He doesn’t have the faintest idea what it’s like to be around an omega in heat. I can’t vouch for how he’ll treat you.”

“You act like he’s a wild animal.” Lance half-laughs at the ridiculous notion, but catches himself and stops short of it when he sees the grim expression Shiro’s still wearing. There’s nothing humorous there at all, only sadness and resignation. “Shiro, he’s your _family_.”

“He is. Not by blood, but I hatched him and raised him under my wing. I know him better than anyone, as much as he’ll allow himself to be known.” Shiro turns around, as if to make sure that none of his squadron are listening in on the conversation now. When he turns back to Lance, it’s with an air of seriousness that borders on unsettling. “He’s not _wild_. He’s taken care of himself for years so I imagine he could do the same for you. In theory. But… he isn’t sociable. He’s rough around the edges, snappy and growly and growing worse with every passing year he spends alone, sometimes when I visit him he hardly wants to communicate at all.”

“Well, I don’t imagine I’ll be asking him for prose when I first see him.” Lance hopes Shiro can’t sense the embarrassment through their telepathic bond, but if he does, he doesn’t seem to blame him for it. It is an odd conversation to be having when Lance has absolutely no experience in this area. 

“No, I imagine not.”

“If we’re compatible, our instincts will decide it for us. If not, perhaps I’ll get a clutch out of it and then my questions will be answered. I won’t have to spend the rest of my life wondering about him.”

“He wondered about you too. For years.” Shiro tells him, gently this time. He lowers his head, staring toward the ground in thought. He looks particularly pained, like he’s not enjoying thinking about this any more than he has to. “That’s the only reason I’m doing this. He hasn’t asked me for anything in a decade, I want to give him the one thing I have to offer. If you end up helping him, bringing him out of his shell, bringing him back to me… let’s just say I’ll owe you one. You might think you miss him, but you don’t know him like I do, and I promise you I miss him more.”

“Well, believe what you will, but I’m not sure anyone _could_ miss him more than I have.” Lance challenges boldly, not a hint of hesitation in the words. Shiro looks him over curiously, before giving another huff, this one slightly more amused than the last. Lance preens under the attention, sways slightly on his feet.

He attempts to lean against Shiro for support, only to get shoved roughly away.

“You should go soon.” Shiro says gruffly, apparently not one for discussing emotions. “You don’t have much longer before your first wave and you should be far away from here when it hits. I trust my alphas wouldn’t force themselves upon you, but the last thing I want is anyone to make decisions with impaired judgment. I want you to be sure you know what you’re asking for.”

“I’ll head back.” Lance agrees, his mind only now catching up to him enough to marvel at the fact he was about to _lean on Shiro_ for support. He really isn’t thinking straight already and it’s only going to get worse, so he’d best leave now. “Thank-you, Shiro.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I might still come back empty-handed.”

“I hope not.” There’s no hiding the genuine fear in his voice at that, no matter how he might want to. If Shiro’s eyes go soft with sympathy and understanding, they seem to have an unspoken agreement not to talk about it. It seems they’re both on the same page about wanting Keith back in their lives, that they understand each other a little better than Lance ever could have guessed going into this.

\--

Lance is burning.

Everywhere, from the inside out, feels like it’s burning hotter than a firewing’s flame. He’s a searing ball of fire and he’s not sure anything will ever be able to put him out, he’s going to walk away from this as a pile of ash. There’s no out, no way he can live through this. He’s thought that before and survived it, but this time he’s _certain_ it’s not an exaggeration. 

He’s _dying_.

It’s all he can do to stay in his nest and keep himself from writhing out of it and onto the cool cave floor in search of relief. He claws uselessly at his skin, tail whipping around the nest and making a mess of it, his hand buried between his legs for his hips to work against clumsily. Though he’s managed to wring a few unsatisfying grueling orgasms out of himself, he’s not getting anywhere near the relief he needs. 

He’s not sure he _could_ bring himself the relief he needs, his body determined to remain unsatisfied unless someone fucks him full and keeps him stuffed and sated on their knot afterward. 

Fuck.

It’s strange, how he can want something so badly when he’s never had it, his entire biology demanding it on an instinctual level. It’s made worse by the knowledge that Keith _could_ be coming, Keith could be the one to give it to him, to bring him relief. It’s not even a matter of pleasure anymore with how far gone Lance is, he just wants a reprieve from the _pain_. How is he meant to be patient in any capacity when that’s a possibility? Is it even possible?

He’s been patient for so long, he thinks he has a right to lose control now, when he’s so close to finally getting what he wants. He wants Keith so very badly. Always has. No matter how he tried to ignore, deny, or outright refuse it. There’d never been anyone else for him, not from the moment they met.

The days blur together, Lance loses track of time entirely despite how determined he’d been to count down to the day Shiro would return with Keith hopefully in tow. He starts to wonder if they’re coming at all or if it was all a fever hallucination, something he came up with to placate himself through what is no doubt his worst heat yet.

And when Keith does eventually arrive?

Lance scents him on the air long before he comes anywhere close to near enough to see. 

It’s another miserable haze of a day when suddenly a sharp, fresh smell of cedarwood and flame cuts through the cloying smell of Lance’s own sex-heavy scent. It’s faint, but Lance’s senses are heightened right now, and he’s on his feet so quickly that he nearly doubles right back over and faceplants into the stone below him. But through sheer determination alone, he makes his way to the mouth of the cave, half-crawling most of the way there.

It’s early. If Lance is anywhere near correct, then the sun had only just risen moments ago, the light still low where it’s filtering through the tall trees surrounding the mountainside. He studies the sky, swipes a hand across his forehead and pulls a face when it comes away wet with sweat. Nevermind the state of his legs, shining with fresh slick on top of more of the same, sticky and dried from hours ago. Lance makes an effort to wash himself at least once a day, between waves of his heat, but there’s only so much he can do when he’s in this state and he has no one else to rely on. He doesn’t dare stray far from the cave, lest another wave hit when he’s outside.

Right now he’s tempted though, as he tips his head back and near whimpers at the way alpha hormones hit him in the face in response. It’s enough to lure him a few steps further, into the beam of sunlight beating down on the rock outside the mouth of the cave. He steps out, wings tucked close to his back, and looks through the sky in search of a familiar shadow.

He’s so busy searching, using all of his minimal concentration, that it doesn’t even occur to him to check for potential threats when a branch breaks nearby in the woods. Not until it’s too late and he’s been bodily pounced on, slammed to the ground in his soft-fleshy form. He snarls, trying to transform and fight back, give it an honest effort, when a wave of smoke wafts over him and leaves him coughing in search of clean air. The dragon on top of him is…. laughing.

The weight on top of him lets up and he rolls over, rubbing his hands over his face.

Behind him, the firewing lowers itself to the ground, snout pressing closer until it’s tucking into the dip of Lance’s neck and sniffing him there. He tries not to flinch at the temperature, warm, bordering on hot enough to burn. He remembers this though, grits his teeth and bears it as Keith does his fair share of snuffling around, familiarizing himself with Lance’s scent. Belatedly, Lance realizes he never got the chance to scent him since he’d presented. This is all new for him, where Lance feels only fondness and nostalgia the closer Keith gets. 

He tries his very best to sit still and behave, to be a good omega, not too demanding or pushy while he waits for Keith to make the first move. He does an alright job considering he’s never done anything remotely similar to trying to control himself during heat, but the moment Keith’s tongue darts out to trace against his scent glands, all bets are off. Lance moans, entire body shuddering in response.

“Fuck, Keith, please. It’s _me_. Obviously it’s fucking me.”

The moment he speaks, Keith retreats like a spooked wild animal. Regret swamps over Lance, as he whips around to watch him, eyes wide and invested. Unsurprisingly, Keith is a lot bigger than he used to be, and though Lance can’t be certain he thinks he might even be bigger than Shiro. His scales are a bright and bold red, lacking all the scarring that Shiro’s harbor. His wings are massive, even arched high and folded behind his back. He’s truly a sight to behold and if Lance didn’t know him, he’s sure he’d feel intimidated right now. As it is, he only feels pride swelling in his chest, seeing how well Keith has grown.

Slowly, as not to scare him again, Lance extends a hand in his direction.

“Come here.” Lance calls gently, hitching his fingers. Keith is still holding his defensive posture, but his eyes are alight with curiosity, the same deep purple that Lance remembers them being. Slowly, after scenting Lance on the air a few more times, Keith creeps closer again. He stops just short of reaching Lance though, eyes closing in concentration. Lance watches in awed silence as Keith transforms in front of him, flame-red replaced by skin so pale it borders on being white, like Keith had never spent a day in the sun in this form throughout his entire life.

In this form, Keith’s aging is much more obvious than just the blatant size difference. His hair is much longer, shaggier, unkempt where it falls across his back. His jaw is cut sharper, his eyes wiser, his chin holding a scruff of hair that Lance is sure he would have noticed before. He’s built differently too, lean torso replaced by broad defined muscles. It makes sense, of course, Keith would have to be strong to provide for himself all these years. Still, the contrast to how Lance remembers him is hard to wrap his head around, and a physical reminder of how long they’ve really been apart.

Lance can only imagine how different he must look from the scrawny thirteen year old Keith had known him as at the time. No wonder Keith was going by scent rather than appearances to determine if he really was the same boy he remembered. Lance has probably changed just as much, if not more.

Keith moves closer on his hands and knees, crawling into Lance’s space until he’s nuzzling his face into the curve of Lance’s outstretched palm. Lance’s heart is beating a steady drumming rhythm in his chest, faster than it has any right to be. Disbelief is still tainting the moment, even as he scratches his blunt nails across Keith’s five o’clock shadow.

“Hey.” Lance whispers, quiet, like it’s too personal of a moment to even allow the woodland creatures to overhear. Confident that Keith isn’t going to pull away again, Lance leans in, until he can push their foreheads together and Keith’s dark eyes flicker up to meet his gaze directly. Lance smiles, bright and beaming, and fights the strong urge to kiss him before they’ve even exchanged formalities. “You’ve aged gracefully would be an understatement in this situation, yeah? I mean, have you _seen_ yourself?”

“Mm. Could easily say the same about you.” Keith whispers back, and nothing in this world could have prepared Lance for the way even Keith’s voice has changed. Gruffer, bordering on a growl, reverberating deep from his chest in a way that leaves Lance speechless. Keith must know it too, the bastard, as his lips pull up into a smile that shows off those pointed white teeth Lance admired so many years ago. 

The moment stretches on, both of them staring deep into each other’s eyes, simply basking in the closeness. Lance wishes he had the common sense to end it, to know what his next move should be to make sure this goes how he wants it to. But he’s in fucking heat and the next wave is bound to hit any second now, now that he has an alpha in close quarters. 

Luckily, Keith seems amused by his cluelessness rather than annoyed. He leans in closer, presses his lips to the corner of Lance’s, shy and fleeting. He pulls back just as suddenly, cupping Lance’s cheek with his hand, and it’s unavoidable that Lance notices the way Keith’s hand looks massive next to his own.

“I missed you. I missed you so fucking much. I thought I’d never see you again.” Lance gasps suddenly, before he’s even drawn a breath. He’s not sure why, but he can’t wait another second to say it, needs Keith to hear it and truly understand the urgency behind it. He reaches up with both hands, grabs Keith’s face between them with far more force than the alpha had dared to use on him. 

He drags Keith in for a proper kiss, pushes their mouths together and immediately starts trying to deepen the embrace. Keith is still smiling even as Lance grows growly and irritable, frustrated that he’s not being kissed back already, is just aimlessly nipping and sucking at Keith’s lips where they’re pressed to his. Lance pulls back, silently fuming. “ _Keith_. Please. I need you. Now isn’t the time to mess around.”

“Fuck. I know, I know.” Keith chuckles, but when Lance moves to kiss him again, he completely leans back and retreats. He doesn’t even offer anything as a consolation prize either, just leans back and stares at Lance like he’s a sculpture to be admired. “But give me a minute to _look_ at you.”

“Can’t. Can’t wait.” Lance bites out with a snarl, grabbing at Keith’s shoulders and pulling him back in, digging his nails in to his back for good measure. Not that he needed to, this time Keith goes willingly, meets the first press of Lance’s tongue to his lips with his own. He licks into Lance’s mouth like he’s done it a hundred times before, kisses him hard and possessive. 

They only come up for air when Lance feels lust seep low through his gut, feels his cock threaten to harden, the first pulse of slick trailing down the inside of his thigh. Keith must catch the scent of it in the air, his nostrils flaring and pupils blowing out into pits of black. Lance looks pitifully toward him with a pout on his lips, pleading. “I’ve already been waiting so long. I can’t. Not anymore.”

Keith responds in kind with a whimper of his own, high and reedy, plainly pained as he buries his face back into the curve of Lance’s neck. It’s less overwhelming now that they’re both in their softer forms, the burning heat not accompanying Keith’s touch. It still elicits a shiver when he brushes over Lance’s scent glands with his lips though, where they’re swollen and aching, all but begging for a mating bite and so close to getting one. His head feels dizzy with it, and he can already feel himself starting to slip back under the pull of his heat.

“I know. I’m sorry. Took three days for Shiro to reach me and almost three days to get back here. I flew as fast as I could. I should have been here sooner.” 

“Should’ve been here _years_ ago.” Lance counters, keeping his tone playful despite the heavy emotions lurking just beneath the surface. Keith nods into the curve of his neck, peppering featherlight kisses across his skin. “But you’re here now and that’s all that really matters.”

“I’m here now.” Keith agrees, nipping at his collarbone, just a few short inches below where Lance wants his bite the most. Lance brings a hand up and winds his fingers through Keith’s long hair, holding him in place, begging him to lavish his neck with more attention. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna be such a good alpha for you, yeah? Get you all strung-out and needy, then give you my knot and make it all better. Maybe I’ll bite you, make you mine, be there for you through all of your heats. You want that? You want me to claim you?”

“Mm. Please. I need you.” Lance makes a half-ditch effort to pull himself free of Keith’s hold, hoping to make his way back to his nest before their next wave hits, but it’s a lost cause. He doesn’t even manage to disentangle himself before he’s already missing Keith’s shared body heat and diving back into his hold.

This time, Keith welcomes him back with open arms and pulls him in against his chest. Lance has never felt so secure in his life as he buries his face into Keith’s neck and inhales his scent, relishes in the way he can already smell himself lingering all over Keith’s skin, their pheromones combining into something entirely new. And when Keith shifts beneath him and picks him up into his arms, Lance doesn’t feel the faintest hint of concern. He trusts Keith wholly to be good to him.

And it pays off, when a moment later Lance finds himself being set down in the comfort of his own nest.

Lance relaxes back into it, too far gone to feel the slightest bit bashful about the terrible nest he’s made for himself. He doesn’t even mind when Keith kneels next to it and starts to piece it back together where Lance’s thrashing has torn it apart. Lance finds he likes it actually, a quiet purr starting up in his chest as he watches the alpha at work. He feels cared for and he’s already getting addicted to it.

Keith pauses to look up at him when he hears the purr start up, something warm sparkling in his eyes.

“Too bad your heat’s almost over. I wish I’d been here for the whole thing.”

“Huh?”

“Shiro told me heats only last a week.” Keith clarifies. Lance stares blankly back at him, trying to fight the upward twitch of his lips. Keith’s eyebrows slowly furrow together like he can’t make sense of what he’s missing about this. “This _is_ your last day, _right_? Shiro didn’t lie to me?”

“He didn’t lie. I’m sure he _thought_ he was telling the truth.” Lance offers, unhelpfully. He’s finding it difficult to string sentences together, his thoughts beginning to get muddled the closer he gets to having his next wave crest and crash over him. It doesn’t help that Keith is climbing into his nest now, wings stretching behind himself to accommodate for their size in the cramped quarters. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later.” Lance promises, tipping his head back to rest against the edge of his nest. He stares up at the ceiling of the cave, hand drifting down the length of his stomach almost with a mind of its own, eventually finding his cock and giving it a few tugs, uncaring of Keith’s heavy gaze as the pull of his heat drags him under again. “Right now I can feel another wave coming on, and I’d really prefer you be inside me when it hits, if it’s all the same to you.”

Lance realizes that he might be coming on too strong, but he can’t bring himself to care. Keith came after all, surely he must have known what he was signing up for, coming to service an omega in heat. Even if he had no intention of accepting the courting proposal, he had to have known that sex would be the primary thing on the table if he decided to show up.

“Y-Yeah?” Keith swallows hard as Lance continues to fist his cock, eyes narrowed like a predator in pursuit of prey as they admire Keith on the other side of his nest. He can’t help but let his gaze drop to between Keith’s legs for the first time, modesty a long forgotten concept. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that Keith is hard as well, his dual alpha cocks standing proud between his legs. And even in his heat, Lance feels a hint of trepidation at seeing their sheer size compared to his own. 

“You’re big.” Lance breathes, licking his lips in consideration. Lance has never been much for having a filter, but he struggles even more when he’s in heat and staring at the biggest cocks he’s ever seen in his entire life. “Will those even _fit_ inside of me? Do I have to take both at once? One in each hole? How does this work exactly? Fuck, Keith, I don’t know, but I _want it_. I want you.”

“Lance, I should tell you while we’re thinking somewhat clearly. I’ve never-”

“Been with an omega in heat? I know, Shiro told me.” Lance cuts him off, his eyes still fixed on where Keith’s cocks stand tall and proud against his stomach. Lance veers up onto his knees, slowly crawling across the nest, eyes set on the prize with a single-minded focus. Keith swallows harshly, hand coming out to grip Lance’s hair and hold him back before he can attempt to swallow one of those impressive cocks down to the hilt.

“I’ve never been with _anyone_.” Keith clarifies. His tone is firm enough, holding just a trace of alpha command, that Lance is forced to pay attention to it even though his head is growing hazy with heat all over again. He closes his eyes, breathes heavily, tries to remember what he’s supposed to say right now, why that would be a dealbreaker in any way at all. He doesn’t care if Keith is inexperienced, so is he. He just wants this so very badly. “Is that okay?”

“Neither have I.” Lance blurts suddenly, pulling against Keith’s hold on his hair even though it’s clear his hold isn’t relenting at any point. Keith is staring back at him, eyes hooded with desire, and Lance feels absolutely lost to it. He licks his lips, whining pathetically. “Plenty of offers, but none of them were you.”

“Fuck.” Keith breathes. His grip doesn’t relent, but it does grow harsher, until he’s tugging Lance forward rather than holding him back. Lance clambers into his lap clumsily, his desire to suck Keith down to the hilt promptly forgotten in favor of crashing their mouths together in another kiss. Keith gives as good as he gets, meeting him halfway and pressing back into it, licking into Lance’s mouth and effortlessly claiming it as his own. It’s all Lance can do to keep up with it when all he wants to do is roll over and push his ass back, present himself to the ready and willing alpha right in front of him. 

Eventually, the pull of his heat gets too strong, his thighs soaked with his slick and his body so very ready to take a knot… and Lance has no choice but to break the kiss. He reaches down between them, watches as he wraps each of his hands around Keith’s cocks. Immediately, Keith bucks up into his touch, driving into his fist with enough force to have Lance clambering backward off of his lap. 

When Lance falls back against the edge of the nest, Keith follows, on him and over him and caging him in at a moment’s notice. He leans over Lance, propping himself up and slotting their hips together. It overwhelms Lance right from the get-go, so used to spending his heats in isolation. Even this, just Keith’s hips rolling clumsily down against his own, their cocks sliding wetly together, is enough to have Lance dissolving into fruitless needy begging. 

Keith seems amused by it, if nothing else. He watches Lance with a keen eye, even as Lance’s vision seems to blur around the edges, only really able to focus on the sensation of Keith’s warm skin moving against his own. He feels it when Keith buries his face back into his neck though, nipping playfully at his scent glands, not quite enough to break skin but close enough that Lance’s entire body tenses up in obvious anticipation. “Is this it? Your heat’s spiking again, right?”

“ _Yeah_.” Lance chokes out, trying not to let it trail off into another whine. 

“You smell… unreal.” Keith tells him, in a momentary lapse of judgement. Just as quickly, he’s forcibly pulling himself back from Lance despite the way it obviously pains him to do so. He looks at Lance, guilt all over his features. “Fuck. I really wanted to talk about this first. I underestimated how hard it would be to hold a conversation when you fucking smell like _this_.”

“Like what?” Lance grins devilishly, already knowing the answer.

“Like… sex. I don’t fucking know, Lance, what do you think you smell like right now? So fucking delicious, and desperate, like you’d do anything just to get fucked open by a fat cock.” Keith purrs, something hungry leaching into his voice that drives Lance absolutely crazy the longer he focuses on it. He’s never had anyone talk to him like this, never had anything elicit such a strong reaction in him, down to his very core. He shivers all over, desire running through him thicker than his blood. “Fuck, baby, you want that, don’t you? Want it so badly, huh?”

“Keith. Don’t tease.” Lance pleads uselessly, knowing that there’s no reasoning with the alpha if he’s truly made up his mind to string him along. Lance can only hope that he’ll take pity on him and give him what he needs, at least once, to take the edge off. He doesn’t care what happens after, he just needs Keith to knot him, just one time. It’s the thing his heats have been demanding for years and it’s so close to being within his reach, if only Keith would give it to him. “We can talk after. I want you _now_.”

“After might be too late if we do something we can’t take back.”

“I want you, Keith.” Lance repeats, heavier this time. Keith stares closely at him, like he’s watching for the slightest hint of hesitation. He isn’t going to find it there though, Lance has been certain for as long as he can remember, he’s not about to get cold feet now. “I’ve wanted you for so many fucking years, there’s no way it’s the heat talking.”

“Then you can have me,” Keith offers, like it’s that simple, like it’s always been that simple, “because I want you too. I’ve always wanted you. Want you _more_ now that you’re here, smelling so fucking sweet, all hot and needy in my arms. Fuck, Lance, look at you.”

Keith’s starting to sound like _he’s_ the one in heat, with how heavily and plainly affected he is by Lance’s scent. Not that Lance minds, he absolutely thrives with the attention, feels hungry for it in a way he’s never been hungry for anything. He thinks he could definitely get used to having Keith whispering filthy things in his ear throughout his heat. He hopes he’ll be allowed to.

“So you’ll fuck me? Push your knot into me and stuff me full? _Breed me_?”

“Mm.” Keith agrees, crowding closer. He reaches down between them, trails his fingers through Lance’s slick folds, slipping a couple fingers inside of him at once and giving a pleased hum at how readily Lance’s body accepts them down to the final knuckle. Lance presses back into it with a weak whine, relishing the slight relief. It’s not near enough to satisfy him, but it’s a promise of something more.

“And you’ll bite me? Sink your teeth into my neck and give me your mark? Claim me as your mate? Do you want that, want _me_? I want to be yours so very badly, Keith.”

“Of course I want you, Lance.” Keith says it like it’s obvious, like he should surely know the answer by now, and it gets to Lance a little bit. He hadn’t expected Keith to want him just as much, and he definitely hadn’t expected him to be open about it. Apparently Keith has had a lot of time to think on this. Not that Lance hasn’t as well. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Lance repeats, voice soft with affection in a way he can’t hope to control. He leans in and nuzzles into the curve of Keith’s neck, pressing kisses to his pulse point, to his Adam’s apple, to his scent glands just below the curve of his jaw. He trails upward, takes Keith’s earlobe between his teeth, teasingly nibbles at it. “Please, _Alpha_.”

The sound of Lance’s voice, all saccharine sweet and needy must do something to Keith. His self-control snaps like a tangible thing, Lance watches it happen, sees it play out across his features. The way his adoring smile shifts into something more singleminded, something more determined. Keith has his hands on Lance’s hips moments after that, flipping him around and manhandling him into position.

Lance finds himself on his hands and knees moments later, shoving his face into his arms as he struggles to hold the position Keith wants him in. It sends a sick sense of satisfaction through him, knowing he’s been made to present, that Keith intends to mount him from behind and fuck him like an animal would.

A part of him is expecting at least a little bit of pain when one of Keith’s cocks breaches him for the first time, given it’s massive compared to the size of his fingers and those are the only things he’s ever had inside of himself until now. Only, Keith feeds the head of his cock into Lance’s waiting heat, and all Lance feels is relief. Relief swamps him so heavily that he immediately wants more, starts working his hips back and babbling nonsensically, begging Keith. A chorus of ‘ _please, please, please_ ’ and ‘ _more, more, more_ ’ fills the cave.

It’s only when Keith shushes him harshly, reaches around and slips his fingers into his mouth to quiet him, that Lance realizes he’s _coming_ . It’s not his first orgasm by any definition, but it is the first one he’s ever experienced during heat that’s actually felt _good_ , felt like enough. He bites down on Keith’s fingers without thinking, near chokes around them as he shakes apart on the feeling of Keith’s cock only half-buried inside of him.

Behind him, Keith gives a choked noise like Lance has stolen the breath from his lungs.

“Fuck, Lance.” 

Lance isn’t really capable of words quite yet, still gasping for breath, but he nods with enough eagerness that he hopes Keith gets the message. And it seems he does, when a moment later he goes back to pushing inside of Lance, feeding the length of his cock into his slit with a steady hand. 

The feeling of fullness alone is overwhelming, but it only becomes more when Keith starts to move, starts to fuck him properly. It’s all Lance can do to remember to breathe, to hold himself up and keep his jaw firmly closed so he’s not drooling all over himself. Keith isn’t even particularly harsh about it yet, instead giving Lance plenty of time to get used to the sensation, taking it agonizingly slow.

Lance wants to tell him to speed up, but he’s still not sure he remembers how to use words.

Fuck, every time that Keith bottoms out inside of him, the head of his cock buried so deep inside of Lance that he’s sure his insides will hold the shape of it for days… Lance feels like he’s coming again, feels like maybe he never stopped. It’s blind ecstasy without reprieve, he doesn’t even have the capability to wave the white flag, to ask for a breather. Not that he wants it, not really. He’s never enjoyed anything as thoroughly as he enjoys being undone by Keith’s hand, by his cock.

And when the pace _does_ speed up, when Keith starts to fuck him good and proper, until there’s no way he can swallow down his noises or keep his mouth shut through it, Lance swears they’re going to scare away every woodland creature in the forest. Between Keith’s ragged breathing and the deep grunts wrenched out of him whenever he hits home just right, and the way Lance cries and moans his way through the pounding of a lifetime, there’s genuine concern that Lance’s clan might be able to hear them from the very bottom of the fucking ocean.

“Close.” Keith informs him, hitching his hips into him in short, staccato bursts. 

“You’re gonna-”

“Yeah.” He breathes, hands spreading wide around Lance’s hips to get a good grip on him and pull him back against his cock with force. “Gonna shove my knot into you, just like you want.”

And Lance can’t even think as his pussy flutters weakly around Keith’s cock again, trying in vain to bring him deeper, to keep him there. He’s impatient, over-eager, desperate for something he’s never even had in his life but is sure he’s never wanted anything more than. Fuck.

He comes a second time at the thought of it alone, feels himself grow ever wetter, and hopes desperately that Keith can’t feel the difference around his cock. There’s a ridiculous amount of the stuff, too much surely, more than even an omega in heat would need to take a knot. It’s running down the insides of his thighs, slipping free around where Keith’s cock is stretching him wide, and leaving his entire lower half with a thin slippery sheen that no one in their right mind would believe is sweat.

Lance promptly forgets his insecurities though, easily distracted in his hazy sex-driven state.

Because with each thrust, Lance feels the barely-there swell of Keith’s knot pushing inside of him, stretching him wider, and silently hopes it’ll be the time that it sticks. He’s never been knotted before, doesn’t know what to expect, but his heat-riddled body is singing praise every time it slides home inside of him so he can’t even find it within himself to be nervous about it.

“Mm, me too.” Lance answers belatedly, just now remembering that Keith had spoken. Keith chuckles quietly above him, fondness creeping into his voice.

_Keith’s_ _hand_ slides up the length of Lance’s back, tracing along the knobs of his spine, surprisingly gentle to contrast the pace of his hips, growing faster as he chases after his finish. _Keith’s wings_ are draped over either side of Lance, settling on the edges of the nest, and Lance can’t deny the feeling of safety and comfort it brings him. _Keith’s tail_ is winding around Lance’s ankle, pulling him back each time Keith’s fucking drives him further into the nest and further from Keith’s hold. Lance can’t get enough of the sheer amount of places Keith is touching him. He feels like he’s drowning in it.

But none of it sets him off quite the way that Keith’s teeth do, as he leans forward and sinks them none-too-gently into the meat of Lance’s shoulder. Not quite where he wants Keith’s bite, but close enough to it to allude, to tease. Lance moans in a way that could probably be excused on the pain, but in reality is anything but. In the state he’s in, even pain feels like pleasure, as long as it’s Keith inflicting it.

His third orgasm hits him remarkably suddenly, at about the same time that Keith buries his cock into him to the hilt, and Lance has to slam his legs together to keep him from trying to pull back out before he’s finished. Because he wants Keith inside him when he comes, _needs it_ , needs to draw up tight and clench down around Keith’s knot whether it’s ready for him or not. 

Pleasure sears through him as hot as the pain of his heat had once been and he’s already made up his mind that no matter what happens with Keith, he’s never spending another heat alone again. This isn’t just bearable, it’s euphoric, it’s the best thing Lance has ever experienced and ironically he’s almost dreading having it end. He hopes this is his longest heat yet, that Keith can keep taking care of him the whole way through. He moans at the thought of it, legs trembling and threatening to give out beneath him.

“Again?” Keith asks, amusement audible in his tone even as his hips rock clumsily against Lance’s ass, unable to pull out fully with how tightly Lance’s body is holding him, but still too pent-up to stay still when he’s yet to come himself. Lance whines in overstimulation, but he relaxes enough that Keith can pull back and start fucking him again. He’s slower now, taking his time pushing in and drawing back out slowly, and Lance feels like he could combust with embarrassment at the added amount of wetness between his legs. He can _hear_ the difference, the audible squelch of slick as Keith’s cock fills him.

“Shut-up, Keith.” Lance mutters, his face aflame with a blush that he can’t blame entirely on his heat. He rolls his hips back against him, looks back over his shoulder and grins at the awed look on Keith’s face, like he hadn’t expected Lance to have it in him. “I’m in heat, of course I’m going to come, don’t take it as more of a compliment than you deserve.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow at him, lips twitching at the corners.

“Are you saying I don’t deserve the praise?” Keith emphasizes his words with a harsh thrust, a resounding slap filling the cave as their skin collides. Keith’s grip on his hips grows bruising and punishing, keeping him in place and forcing him to take it as his pace becomes brutal. Not that he needs to when Lance is moaning happily through it, relieved to finally be getting the fucking he needs.

Keith crowds over his back, biting at the nape of his neck. “Am I not fucking you to your standards, _my omega_ ? Am I not giving it to you _hard_ enough? Do you need _more_?”

“ _Keith_.” Lance whimpers, fingers scrabbling through the dirt in search of purchase.

“Maybe you need both my cocks to keep you satisfied, huh? Don’t wanna take turns, you want them both at once? So greedy for it, you need a knot in your cunt _and_ a knot in your ass. You’re gonna drip with my cum like you leak slick by the time I’m done.”

“Mm, I want it.” Lance cries. “Want both your knots, Alpha.”

“Not now, I’m too close.” Keith tells him and Lance’s only response is to whine, high and reedy in the back of his throat, like it’s the worst thing that’s ever been done to him. Keith shushes him, or tries to, but even that doesn’t work. Lance is too keyed up and wanting to care much about embarrassment, all he knows is that he needs it, needs what Keith is promising him like he needs to breathe. When words don’t work to placate him, Keith gives him a little slap on the ass, just hard enough to draw him back to the moment. “Next wave, baby, I’ll give you everything you want. Right now I need you to be a good boy for me and present. You’re gonna take my knot, just one for now, see how you like it.”

Obediently and without a shred of hesitation, Lance’s chest drops to the ground, his back arching in a fine line as curved as a bowstring, hips lifted as best he can to try and accommodate for Keith’s size. If he’d been massive before, Lance isn’t sure what to make of it now that his knot is nearly filled out. In truth, Lance isn’t sure if it’ll fit back inside of him, as Keith’s thrusting turns instead into a steady grind of his knot against Lance’s sex.

“I want it.” Lance repeats weakly, like that alone will convince Keith to give it to him.

“Good boy. Such a good omega for me.” Keith praises distractedly, sounding almost as distracted as Lance, apparently enjoying himself entirely too much considering Lance isn’t getting what he wants out of this equation. Keith buries his face into the nape of Lance’s neck, kisses and sucks at the skin there, already reddened and sore from his sharp teeth. “What about my bite, hm? I seem to recall you wanting that too. You wanna be _mine_?”

“I do.” Lance gasps, near chokes with how desperately he gets the words out. It’s enough to break him out of his dazed state, enough to have him wiggling around in search of Keith’s teeth, trying to offer his neck at just the right angle to feel those sharp incisors against his sensitive scent glands. He’s not sure how he hadn’t noticed it until now, but they’re throbbing, more painful than they’ve ever been even in the worst of his heats spent alone. “Fuck, Keith, please. I want it. I want it so badly. I want-”

“Shh, calm down. Just be patient. The bonding won’t take if we’re not knotted.” Keith explains, hands running over Lance’s sides, trying in vain to get him to relax. But Lance is getting antsy now, trying to work himself back against Keith, to force the knot inside of him. He doesn’t understand why Keith isn’t giving it to him yet, when it’s everything he needs, everything he’s ever wanted. What the fuck is he waiting for? Why is he being so _mean_? 

“I _need_ it.” Lance repeats, trying to make Keith _understand_. 

“I know, I know you do. I’m gonna give it to you.” Keith promises, and then proceeds to _not give it to him_. Instead he’s reaching down between them and tracing his fingers over where their bodies are joined, toying with the amount of slick Lance has produced. Apparently deeming him ready, Keith slides a finger into the warm clutch of Lance’s cunt alongside his cock, stretching him wider and yet still not giving him anything remotely close to what he wants. The sound Lance makes in answer is practically a sob. “I’m gonna give the world to you, you just gotta be good for me. Stay still.”

“I can take it, Keith, I swear I can. Please. Knot me. Bite me. Make me yours.” Lance rambles on without thought, lightheaded with it. Keith is putting pressure behind the rock of his hips again and Lance swears just a little bit more and the knot would slip in like that, like nothing at all, he wouldn’t even feel it. 

Instead, Keith gives him another finger, and Lance damn near snarls his anger. 

He whips around and attempts to bite onto the nearest part of Keith he can reach, which just so happens to be a wing. He doesn’t manage to sink his teeth in though, Keith reacting just in time and folding his wings neatly behind his back with a warning growl. 

“Lance, if you want it, you have to fucking stay still. I don’t want to hurt you.” Lance does _not_ stay still, he’s too far gone for that. The anxiety is rising high in his throat and he feels like he can’t breathe around it, the thought that Keith might not even knot him after all of this, after all he’s begged for it, after how long he’s _waited_. It takes Keith laying flat against his back with his full weight to pin Lance to the ground properly, to get him to stay in place.

But then he’s slipping his fingers free with a frustrated sigh, like Lance has beaten him into submission, broken down all of his self-control and reduced him to a weaker man for it. This time, when he rolls his hips forward, they don’t retreat just as quickly. He applies more force, fingertips rubbing at Lance’s hips, massaging them like it’ll somehow inspire him to spread his legs wider. Lance tries, though he’s not sure it’s possible.

For a terrifying moment, Lance has second thoughts and wonders if Keith was right, if he truly wasn’t ready to take it and that it wouldn’t _fit_ inside. His body doesn’t seem very forgiving, as Keith’s knot grinds against where he’s split open wide around the rest of his cock. It doesn’t hurt necessarily, it’s just too much, and Lance can confidently say nothing has ever been too much for him during heat until now. 

Fuck. Are all knots _this_ huge? Or is it just the size difference between the firewings and Lance’s own kind? Maybe his body really isn’t made for it, maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew, maybe-

With a brutal final shove, Keith pushes his knot inside of Lance whether it’s meant to fit or not.

“Oh fuck.” Lance chokes. He’s immediately aware that he’s never been stretched so wide before, never taken anything remotely close to this size. His body is left unsure whether it wants to pull Keith deeper to alleviate some of the pressure, or if it wants to push him out entirely. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s coming, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than where he’s stretched past his limits, so wide and full that he already feels like he’s carrying an entire clutch.

And while Lance is panicking, clenching and squirming around Keith’s cock, he’s inadvertently working the knot inside of him like an accidental pro. He only realizes this when Keith gives a feral growl of sorts, the sound of his wings flapping behind him filling the cave, sending dust spiralling in their way. “Keith, it’s too much, I can’t. I can’t! You need to pull it back out, I-”

In an instant, Keith doubles over him and sinks his teeth into his neck, directly over his scent glands.

Immediately, Lance finds his chest swamped with Keith’s own emotions, the telltale sign that their bond has taken. He feels Keith’s blinding pleasure, his happiness so strong it almost brings tears to Lance’s eyes, and the love that feels startling similar to Lance’s own. It’s the mirror version of his feelings for Keith, fed right back to him, a feedback loop that makes him completely forget why he’d ever been freaking out in the first place.

Instead, he hums, clenching purposely around the knot in his cunt.

“That’s it. Just like that. It’s like you’re fucking milking my cock, squeezing my knot so tight.” Keith is purring happily and Lance nods dumbly along with his words, feeling himself start to relax around Keith’s knot. Now that he’s not thinking about it so much, it doesn’t actually bother him at all. It feels sort-of… nice. Really nice. Relieving. Like putting herbal balm on a burn, Lance finally feels cooled from the inside out, and it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it’s not the knot doing it, but rather the cum Keith is pumping inside of him. He only realizes when he shifts and feels the wet slide of Keith’s cock against his soaked inner walls, feels how he’s fit to burst with the amount of it if it weren’t for the knot keeping him plugged. He gulps.

And when Keith’s hand comes down to his abdomen, touch featherlight as he rubs at the swollen pouch of his lower stomach with what can only be described as fierce protectiveness… Lance feels himself spasm into a belated final orgasm. Keith coos at him through it, licking at their mating bond to keep it clean. “Gonna give me such pretty babies, yeah? Be a good bitch and get nice and knocked up for me.”

Lance really, _really_ wants to be good for him.

Somehow, coming down from his high is the best part of the entire thing. He feels lost to it, the feeling of Keith’s knot pressing against his insides, tugging against the rim of his cunt every time he so much as squirms to get comfortable. It’s too much, by all accounts, it’s more than he’d ever think himself capable of taking at a normal time. But right now he’s not thinking rationally and his body’s determined to do all the work for him, keeping him so wet and loose it doesn’t even feel like a strain to be so filled.

Inevitably, Keith’s knot does go down enough that he pulls himself free of the tight clutch of Lance’s body, leaving him feeling impossibly empty in its wake and already eager to be stuffed full again. He immediately collapses into the nest somewhere behind Lance, apparently spent, but there’s still fire burning beneath Lance’s skin and he knows his heat is far from over yet. 

But for now, he busies himself by keeping his hips lifted high, trying to make sure not a drop of Keith’s seed spills and goes to waste until he can knot him again.

after spending no more than ten minutes spaced out and lapsing in and out of sleep, he feels the next wave of his heat start to warm him from the inside out. He whines in annoyance, frustrated that he hadn’t even managed to get a drink or a bite to eat. He immediately turns in search of Keith, crawls over to where he’s laying, sleeping, and collapses half on top of him. Keith grunts in acknowledgment, but doesn’t wake fully, much to Lance’s frustration.

Lance isn’t exactly in a place for words, so he simply nuzzles his face against the plane of Keith’s chest until the alpha starts to stir again. Instead of speaking, he chitters and purrs loudly the whole while to voice his satisfaction. Slowly, as Keith wakes up, he starts to answer Lance’s call with a purr of his own, though it’s a much deeper rumble of a sound. 

Lance can’t get enough of it, this strange new type of heat. Where before it felt like he was being consumed by the fire and burned alive, now it’s the same welcoming feeling of warmth he gets when he drapes himself over Keith’s body. It’s comfortable and satisfying, at least for the time being. All of his limbs feel fuzzy, his body heavy, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to come again.

He kisses his way down the length of Keith’s body, until he’s settled comfortable between his legs. Keith’s tail flicks against his hip, a warning of sorts, but Lance ignores it. It’s impossible to pay attention to that when Keith’s cocks are inches from his face, still hard and leaking, despite the fact that his knots have mostly receded. Lance wraps his fingers around the base of one, gently massages Keith’s knot where it’s still swollen and pulling the skin around it taut with the strain. Keith moans, shifting weakly away from the touch, and then arching into it despite himself when Lance curls his whole fist around his knot instead and squeezes harder.

Pleased with the reaction, Lance ducks his head forward and takes the head of one of Keith’s cocks into his mouth. He wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, ignores the way Keith’s legs spasm beneath him, kicking out blindly in overstimulation. He drags his tongue through the slit of Keith’s cock, gathers every lingering drop of cum he can find and swallows it down, greedy. He can’t let a drop go to waste, the thought of it unsettles him somewhere deep in his core.

He wants all of Keith’s cum _inside of him_ , wants to make sure he ends up good and stuffed full of it, so he’ll be carrying a heavy clutch of eggs. He isn’t sure what they’ll look like, a combination of his own water-dwelling species and Keith’s firewing self, but he’s eager to meet them all the same. So very eager, he feels like this is way too overdue. He’s wanted Keith’s children for _years_.

“When can you go again?” Lance asks suddenly, with a surprising amount of clarity. Unfortunately, Keith seems to be lacking in that department, his eyes glazed over as he stares down at where his cockhead rests against Lance’s pouted lips. Teasingly, Lance darts his tongue out, gives him a little kitten lick and holds eye contact the entire while. “ _Come on_ , Keith, I want you to fuck me again. When can you do it?”

“I don’t know.” Keith chokes out, his breathing absolutely ragged, like he’s run a marathon. And though Lance is flattered, he’s not sure that a few teasing licks of his tongue should get to him this badly. He reaches down between Keith’s legs, cups his balls in the palm of his hand, rubs them idly as he kisses at his cock. He’s growing steadily more impatient and he’s not sure this’ll keep him sated for long.

“ _Soon_?” 

“I don’t know.” Keith’s technically holding his eye contact, Lance supposes, but he doesn’t look entirely present in the conversation or the moment. Lance quirks an eyebrow.

“Keith.” Lance puts all of his effort into making his tone harsh. “Look at me.”

“I _am_ looking at you.”

“No, you’re not, you’re looking right through me.” Lance insists, picking himself up and sitting up straighter, as much as his sluggish body protests every second of it. Keith doesn’t seem pleased with the loss of contact either, his hips lifting weakly to chase after it. And if Lance isn’t mistaken, he could swear that Keith’s cocks are filling out again, before they’d even fully gone soft. 

Lance isn’t entirely sure, he’s not really in a place to be thinking critically, but he’s pretty sure that isn’t normal. Even for an alpha, firewing or not. “I can’t believe I’m the one asking this right now, but are you okay? This seems to be hitting you pretty hard. I’m between waves right now, Keith, this is supposed to be when you’re composed enough to go outside and gather food and materials. This is your break, to catch your breath. So, why do you somehow look worse-off now than you did before? Is this too much for you to handle?”

“N-No, not too much.” Keith insists, hand darting out to grab Lance’s wrist like he’s scared he might try to run away otherwise. Not that Lance has any intention at all of doing that, he’s going to ride out his entire Keith either underneath or on top of Keith, no matter what. Keith’s grip softens a moment later like he can see the loyalty shining in Lance’s eyes. “... Might be my rut.”

Huh.

“You’re kidding.” Lance all but whispers the words, not daring to let himself get his hopes up. It’s incredibly rare for an unmated couple to have their heat and rut line up at the same time. It’s the sort of thing that takes a couple years of having their hormones intermingle, their schedules eventually lining up to increase their chances of conceiving. For it to happen out of chance alone is practically unheard of, but Lance can’t deny that Keith is really looking rut-brained right about now. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, entirely too pleased. “Fuck. I’m gonna be having a clutch of twenty by the time we’re done here, holy shit.”

“Dun’ think that’s possible.” Keith offers, lacking his usual minimal eloquence. 

“At least a clutch of five, yeah? I can’t have Rachel outdoing me.” Lance counters, crowding back into Keith’s space. And Keith doesn’t make the slightest hint of protest, instead just leaning back against the edge of the nest and spreading his legs wide, offering himself up anyway that Lance feels so inclined as to take him. Lance grins, wrapping his fingers around both of Keith’s cocks, jerking them clumsily. “Think you can do it, Keith? Think you can breed me? That’s your job, isn’t it? What else is an alpha in rut good for than to fuck and breed their omega?”

“Gonna stuff you so full of my cum you’ll choke on it.” Keith snarls, plainly annoyed, his control slipping through his fingers as he slips fully into his rut. And rather than shy away from him, Lance simply rolls over and shoves his hips into the air, presenting himself for the taking. He looks back over his shoulder and bats his eyelashes.

“Gonna give it to me, alpha?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for it?” Keith whispers against the shell of his ear, kissing down his neck and spending special attention at his fresh bonding bite. Lance whines weakly, spreads his legs wide, arches his back until he can feel one of Keith’s cocks slotting between his ass cheeks, rubbing through the slick gathered there. 

“I’ve _been_ ready, Keith. Put it in me already, you bastard.” Lance demands, then in the same breath yelps as Keith forces him down into the nest, a hand at the back of his neck pinning him there. Lance is forced to do nothing but take it as Keith lines the head of his cock up with Lance’s cunt, rubbing it through the mess of wetness there, just barely teasing at putting it in him. “Keith! Fuck me already or I’ll have to do it myself!”

“My mate.” Keith purrs against his back, low and plainly amused, as he finally works a cock into Lance’s slit with steady pressure. Lance isn’t sure how to tell him that though his efforts to go slow are cute and appreciated, they’re ultimately unnecessary. He’s so wet that he’s fairly certain Keith could shove both his monstrous cocks into him in one brutal thrust and Lance would feel nothing but the satisfaction at finally being filled how he needs. “My beautiful, bossy omega. You haven’t changed a bit. You’re exactly how I remember you. You know exactly what you want and you’re not afraid to ask for it, are you?”

“I want you, Keith.” Lance presses their lips together, clumsy with it as desperation sets in, the next wave of his heat hitting him suddenly. He clenches hard around the head of Keith’s cock and earns a sharp thrust for his trouble, another few inches fed into him at once. He moans, feeling Keith’s slowly swelling knot against his rim. “I want your knot, alpha. Will you give it to me?”

“As many times as you want it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ok, first off, thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little bit nervous because this is the first a/b/o thing I've ever posted. In the spirit of honesty though, I read this shit ALL the time, it's a guilty pleasure. I say, surprising utterly no one. We get it Kali, your breeding kink and knotting kink are NOT subtle.
> 
> ok ok, i digress. It's still a nervewracking thing posting something new for the first time, so pls encourage me with lots of sweet comments if u liked it!! 
> 
> social medias:  
> @melancholymango is my main twitter/tumblr  
> @redgaysonly is my horny fandom twitter
> 
> how things work in this universe:  
> alpha males have TWO dicks / alpha females have a dick and a vagina  
> betas just have one set of parts  
> omega males have a dick and a vagina / omega females only have a vagina??? i guess?? but they're super fertile
> 
> DOES it make sense? no absolutely not, but it's a porn trope and i don't care. i really just wanted an excuse to give keith two dicks again. i have no shame left in me. goodnight.


End file.
